Triumph of the Skies
by RoxieFlash
Summary: Someone is ticking off everything on the Doctor's Christmas list. Written for the 25 Days of Fic challenge on tumblr.
1. Mistletoe

_The Sideways Man _is being worked on, but in the meantime have some Christmas Eleven/Rose fic. Unbeta'd, because this is a present for my beta. Will go home and re-edit when the month is over. xD Enjoy!

The card was very plain. Simple, but lovely, with a sprig of mistletoe bordered in gold printed on cream-colored cardstock. On the inside, someone had scribbled "Happy Christmas!" in messy, girlish handwriting, but it hadn't been signed. There was no envelope, but other than that it was just a Christmas card.

It might have been the most ordinary thing in the world, if Amy Pond hadn't found it taped to the outside of the TARDIS doors while she and her boys were visiting a very hot and ancient Roman summer. Frowning, she studied it as she pushed through to the cool interior of the control room, but unable to find anything significantly interesting or dangerous, she left it sitting on the jump seat as she continued to her room and her original purpose - to find something to pull her hair up with in this heat.

The card remained forgotten, until hours later the Doctor, Amy, and Rory all climbed laughing back into the control room, fresh from their latest adventure.

"You fought bears?" Amy laughed.

"In that arena, just back there! Three great big bears - oh, and a lion!"

Rory, who was just putting away his gladius, looked up, his eyes wide. "They threw you to the lions? What did you do?"

"Only one lion. Tired old dear, just needed a nap really."

Rory continued to follow after the Doctor as he spun eagerly around the console, setting a new course and telling the story of how he'd once stolen a horse from a Roman hostel so he could save a host of people that'd been turned to stone. They made quite a sight, those two - the Doctor was still wearing a toga (though he wore his suitcoat over the top of it), and Rory was still wearing a bronze breastplate and and an expression that only said that the Doctor was talking far faster than he could keep up, but he was going to be polite and listen - at least until his armor started to chafe. It was a look Amy knew well.

It was then that she remembered the mysterious card; she snatched it up and bounded over to the Doctor.

"Christmas!" said the Doctor delightedly, throwing his hands in the air. "I love Christmas. Well, I try to love Christmas. It never does quite love me back."

"It was just," Amy gestured in the general direction of the door. "Up there. When I got back."

But the Doctor had gone very still, and very quiet. He was no longer running his fingers along the embossed mistletoe, but at the plain greeting on the inside.

"It must be Christmas, where-ever River is."

That snapped the Doctor out of his reverie. "River? Why would you think it was River?"

"Well," Rory said plainly. "She has that wrist - thing."

"Vortex manipulator," said the Doctor absently.

"Is there someone else who'd travel across time and space to wish you Happy Christmas?" said Amy. "We should get her something," she said, turning to Rory. "Shouldn't we? Mum and dad, get her something at Christmas?"

But Rory wasn't listening. He was looking at the Doctor like a particularly difficult crossword puzzle, watching as as his long fingers traced over the flowing letters.

"River," he said after a prolonged silence. His fingers still brushed the cardstock. "Doesn't dot her 'i's with hearts."


	2. Hot Chocolate

Nearly a month passed before it happened again.

He convinced himself it was an anomaly, some hiccup in time that, while rare, did happen occasionally when you cavorted through time and space. The TARDIS existed in all time at once, and she formed attachments to his companions just as he did. The ones she'd been fondest of…well, bits of them tended to just…appear, once in a while. The Doctor theorized that because of their omnipresence in the mind of an omnipresent being, ephemera from their everyday lives just tended to bleed through all of the whens. Books of Sarah Jane's, left open on the jump seat, albums of Susan's inexplicably playing on their own. Last month he'd found a note from Donna on the fridge, reminding him to bring biscuits home while he was out.

It was one of his least favorite consequences of time travel, as it had the unfortunate tendency to re-open old wounds in times when he really quite needed them closed. There were other, more important universal absurdities demanding his attention, and his own petulant heartbreak seemed like a very selfish thing in which to indulge. Mercifully, he thought, swinging open the door to an old, grubby dinner, the TARDIS had not presented him with anything belonging to Rose Tyler in what felt like an age, and it had only done so now, when there were no present emergencies begging for his attention.

A pink-cheeked waitress with a chipped red nametag that red "Hi, My Name Is Sandy" led him to an orange plastic booth.

"I'll be right with ya honey," she said, and gave him a saccharine smile.

The Doctor, who didn't feel much like talking and felt even less like eating, instead offered the waitress a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes and slid into the booth, withdrawing the card from his breast pocket (next to his sonic screwdriver and his hearts) and laid it out on the table.

Amy and Rory were having Christmas. Nevermind that it was Christmas, 1999, or that it was Georgia outside, instead of London. Amy wanted Christmas with her daughter, so, of course - the Doctor had brought Amy to Christmas with her daughter. The two of them, and River, were out doing Family Things.

"You are coming," Rory said plainly, as they'd all made ready to leave. "Aren't you?"

And he had - he almost had. The only eyes that had known he would change his mind at the last moment, of course, were River's - infuriating, wonderful River, who always knew what he would do a half step before he did it, and who deserved so much more than a man who was not wholly devoted to her in all his soul. As ever, she didn't seem to mind; just looped one arm through Amy's, and the other through Rory's, and gave him a wink.

"Mummy, Daddy," she said with a smile. "I think I'd like to see some Christmas lights."

"And presents?" Amy said teasingly, and that was that. The glorious Ponds and their lovely daughter were away, leaving the Doctor and the TARDIS alone with rain drizzling over them both.

He hadn't meant to leave them alone, really he hadn't. But a great melancholy settled over him at just the last moment, when he realized - Christmas Eve, 1999. In just a few hours, a little girl would wake to find that Father Christmas had left a shiny red bicycle in the living room of her flat at the Powell Estate.

So he wandered a bit, here and there, until he found the last diner on Earth that seemed to be open. He figured it was best to keep his mouth closed and to himself, lest the Universe realize that he was the Doctor, and this was Earth and Christmas, do what it seemed to do best. He honestly didn't know why he was here other than to perhaps collect himself before Amy's curious nature got the better of her and he was forced to explain himself. That was a conversation he simply wasn't ready to have.

The Doctor was thrown out of his thoughts by the violent electronic tones of a ringing telephone; he started violently, looking up from the card and sharply around for invading aliens or giant alien spiders. Instead, he found only Sandy, muttering to herself on the phone.

A few minutes later, she waddled up to his table with a knowing grin on her face.

"That was your lady," Sandy said with a knowing look. "Described you right down to the bow tie. Says she can't make it, but you should have something to warm you up."

She sat a steaming mug of hot chocolate down on the table in front of him.

"On the house. Merry Christmas, honey,"


End file.
